


Perfect

by McRaider



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Greg is Sweet, Greg's dad is kind of amazing, M/M, Mycroft is Sweet, Mycroft is unsure in social situations, Tumblr Prompt, Weddings, accidental prompt reply, so is his mum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 00:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McRaider/pseuds/McRaider
Summary: As Mycroft watches the two of them sing Shania Twain’s ‘Don’t Be Stupid’ to the entire family’s rapturous approval, he realises with a thrill that he’s watching the man he’ll marry - watching him sing and dance and laugh, grinning from ear-to-ear - and he’s grinning straight across the room at Mycroft.It takes some planning - some discreet checking - some reassurance from a helpful mother-of-the-groom that such a gesture would not be seen as usurping a special day.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mottlemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottlemoth/gifts).



> This just sorta happened. As a side note I do not speak French even a little, there is a short translation but ultimately, please tell me if it's incorrect, as mentioned I am not a speaker and I have no doubt that are small things that could be better. All errors are my own. 
> 
> Author’s Note: The original post lists Greg having 4 older brothers, I’ve altered that just slightly, he has 2 older brothers and a younger sister. Brothers: David (5 years older 49), Andrew (3 years older 47), Greg (roughly 44), and Rachel (8 years younger roughly 36)

When Mycroft had originally started dating Gregory two months earlier, he’d rapidly become aware of one very simple fact: Gregory also had siblings, but unlike he and Sherlock, Greg was exceptionally close to his, mostly. There was David, who was a chief architect and spent most of his time traveling the country as he helped build some of the strongest and newest looking buildings around the area. David was married to Leslie, they had three children, who Mycroft honestly couldn’t recall the names of most days. 

There was Andrew, who Greg didn’t get along with as well, the way Greg explained it the two were far too close in age and frequently fought as children leading to a lot of hurt feelings and misunderstandings. Andrew was three years older and Mycroft believed he was an attorney, though from what Greg said he wasn’t always a very good one, Andrew was married twice and divorced, and had recently started dating a woman half his age, something Greg didn’t readily approve of but was trying to keep peace in the family. 

Greg was the third child of course, and after him came Rachel. The family surprise, born nearly eight years after Greg she was easily the closest to him. Rachel and Greg texted every other day, if not every single day and she was perhaps the most like Greg as well, caring, energetic, funny and fond of everyone. Rachel was married to a delightful young man named Henry, they’d married young and then waited to start a family, their oldest child was now five and the apple of Uncle Greg’s eye.  
Mycroft had to admit, when the time had come for Christmas, Mycroft assumed he’d be spending it alone. After all, why would Greg, who had four siblings, dozens of nieces and nephews, more cousins than Mycroft cared to count and a loving mother and father, wish to spend a single moment of his Christmas holiday with someone such as Mycroft. So unlovable, it seemed, his own parents could barely stand him. 

All the same, he found himself being driven out of London to Essex, his parents owned a modest, but nice home there, and frequently entertained the whole of their family. “Are you sure you wish to do this?” Mycroft asked for what felt like the millionth time since they’d gotten into the car. He was terrified, though he was loathe to admit it. He had given up his usual three piece suit, his personal body armor as it were, for deep blue jumper that Greg claimed brought out his eyes, and a pair of light trousers. He wasn’t nearly as comfortable as he normally would be, facing off against people he’d never met yet. He was a seasoned politician and could leave the strongest willed people in a mass of quivering nerves. Yet now here he sat, in a car staring out at the passing countryside wondering what on earth he’d gotten himself into.  
It was a simple equation really, Greg had explained two weeks prior. Mycroft’s parents still weren’t speaking to him after the Eurus incident, and while Sherlock was being nice than ever—which was, on occasion, unsettling—they didn’t feel it best to rock the boat. Mycroft had come to terms with spending his Christmas alone. 

‘You’ll do no such thing!’ Greg had replied as soon as Mycroft had mentioned. Two days later Greg had sat down at the breakfast bar and told him they’d be going to the Lestrades’ for Christmas. 

“Myc, relax,” Greg spoke, his arm hand finding its way to Mycroft’s on his knee. It was a familiar weight, kind and gentle, squeezing his fingers in reassurance rather than to cause pain. “They’ll love you.” 

A part of Mycroft wanted to demand how Greg could possibly know any such thing. After all, they’d never met him and they’d only just learned their son was dating a bloke. Most parents would likely find that daunting. Apparently not Mr. and Mrs. Lestrade. “Perhaps, though I think you’ll find most rarely do.” 

Mycroft had to admit his relationship with Gregory was unique and certainly odd, the grey haired copper was in most cases as ordinary as they came to those who looked at him. Greg frequently called himself Mycroft’s piece of rough, though Mycroft hated that term. Because for every ounce of ordinary people saw in Gregory, Mycroft saw an extraordinary man, who had the patience of a saint, the smile of an angel, and certainly the body and looks of a calendar model. No, as far as Mycroft was concerned, Greg had always been someone to appreciate from afar. He’d spent years appreciating the Inspector, assuming he was straight and there was no chance for a man like Mycroft. 

They had been peers for nearly twelve years, and in the past few years their working relationship had shifted to one Mycroft would almost call a friendship. They had dinners and lunches and rarely discussed Sherlock anymore. 

So when Gregory had turned up on his doorstep after the Sherrinford debacle, Mycroft had unassumingly taken a chance with the one person he knew he could trust and he’d been a little more open. He’d let himself fear and grieve in front of the man. A few days together had turned into weeks, and eventually dating, kissing and sex and soon the two were in a relationship, though what Greg saw in him, Mycroft wasn’t entirely sure. 

They pulled into a small gravel driveway in the Hutton Mount Estates, which Mycroft was mildly surprised by. Greg had certainly never mentioned having a wealthy family, though Mycroft also knew Greg was never going to be one of those people to discuss it anyway. The house was large, an Edwardian estate, that clearly had multiple bedrooms, and a beautiful garden off to the side, trees lined the yard, giving them privacy from neighbors while still boasting plenty of space on the land and there were three detached garages. Mycroft noted there were already several cars in the carpark. Children occasionally darted past the back of the house after a ball or toy of some sort. Greg shut the car off and smiled over at Mycroft, “Deep breaths, it’ll be great.” 

Philip Lestrade was an old fashioned man, he supposed, by the world’s standards. He was a year away from turning seventy, and he’d like to think he’d seen it all. When his son had called him and Anne two weeks earlier and explained that he had a boyfriend, Philip wasn’t particularly surprised, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about it either. Phil had three boys and a girl, and all his life he’d expected to have three daughter-in-laws, and one son-in-law. He supposed that was the norm for most parents, after all everyone has some sort of expectation going into parenthood. However, it soon became clear his two middle children were going to have more struggles than the two on either end. Andrew, who resented Greg coming along and stealing some of the spot light, had been divorced twice, though mostly due to his own problems, now he was dating a young woman who was barely twenty-eight. Phil frequently had opinions about this, but having finally met the girl, who was incredibly down to earth and mature for her age, he’d come to terms that perhaps his son was just one of those odd few who’s soul mates were born a decade or two late. 

Greg had never been a shy child, and in college Phil was well aware the boy had experimented some with both men and women. It was normal, but when he’d married at 34, the woman, Cindy, had seemed nice enough and the parents had hoped Greg would settle down some, have a family. 

Phil had watched his beautiful boy change before his eyes, from a confident, man who understood his self-worth to a jumpy man who was afraid of his wife’s ire and fearful to set her off. It was clear towards the end of the marriage that Greg was, on some level, being abused by Cindy. Though Greg had never chosen to discuss it, Phil had always made sure he and Anne kept their lines of communication wide open for their second youngest, in case he needed a safe space to come home to. 

“So there’s this bloke,” Greg had explained somewhat hesitantly that weekend. “An’ I’ve known him for a long time, but we started dating an’ he’s having some trouble with his family I was wondering if I could bring him home.” 

Phil had to bite his tongue to keep from reminding Greg that he was a grown arse man and could bring home whoever he wanted, no matter the gender. All the same, Phil was worried that whoever this man was, that he would be as bad for Gregory and as abusive as Cindy had been. Phil was sure of one thing, he wasn’t going to let some man, or anyone else for that matter, ruin his boy the way that woman had. 

He stepped out on the cold December morning, Christmas Eve Day, to see his son pull into the car park. He could hear Anne calling to her eldest boys that their brother was here. It had been a year or two since the family had all been together, what with everyone having spouses now it meant they couldn’t constantly get together, unless it was a wedding or a funeral and even then sometimes it was hit or miss. The next two days at least he would have all four of his children and their partners and children in his presence. It made him feel whole in a way he couldn’t quite express. 

Philip, like his youngest boy, had spent a good part of his life as a detective, he’d been eighteen when he’d joined the police force in France, then at twenty-five they’d moved to London and he’d joined the force there. Another fifteen years spent as a DI he’d loved his time. Eventually he’d retired to become a professor. Phil liked to think this was why he noticed things others didn’t. As Gregory’s young man stepped out of the car, Phil immediately noticed several things, the man was tall, Greg was tall, at just under 1.8 meters, but this bloke was a bit taller than him. It was also clear by the way the man’s hand shook ever so slightly as he reached to close the door, he was very nervous. The man’s hands went to clasp something at his front, as if wearing a suit and trying to straighten it, it made Phil wonder if the jumper he wore was his usual dress or if perhaps he spent more time in a suit. 

Greg for his part, walked around the car and placed his hand on the man’s lower back, clearly comfortable with one another and unafraid to touch, that was a good sign in Phil’s book. Cindy had been standoffish at times, sometimes she’d wanted Greg’s touch, and other times she’d left him fearful for his limbs.  
Greg leaned over to whisper something in the man’s ear, which made the man smile and blush a little, the joys of having a pale complexion and soon they were headed towards Phil, and Anne who had just opened the front door. 

“There’s my baby boy,” her voice was filled with delight and pride as she moved towards the two men. Phil didn’t have the heart to remind her that said ‘baby boy’ was now forty-five and a DCI and perhaps one of the most well known in the country thanks to that Holmes fellow. 

Greg rolled his eyes as he swept his mother up in a big strong hug, both arms wrapping around her with ease. “Hi mum,” he murmured in her ear as he held her close. 

She pulled away after a moment and looked at him, she was searching for the same signs Phil was, was their boy happy, was he relaxed and comfortable with this bloke. She saw the same things Phil noticed, Greg’s shoulders were relaxed, his face filled with excitement and happiness a huge smile on his handsome features. Yes, whoever this man was, he was certainly doing a fair deal more good for Gregory than Cindy ever had. 

Mycroft watched as the beautiful and elegant Mrs. Lestrade swept her son into a hug, or rather he swept her up into the hug. She was a petite woman, which was a bit surprising, given Greg’s stature and height. All the same it was clear to see some of the same features Greg held were from this woman. His nose for starters, and that gorgeous smile was identical to the one she’d just expressed as she crushed him into a hug. “Hello my sweet boy,” she smiled as she stepped back and cupped his face. “You look happy.” 

Greg beamed at that, as if he couldn’t smile any brighter already, the man practically lit every room he walked into. “Well, I’d like you to meet the reason for my happiness, mum this is Mycroft. Myc this is Anne, my mum.” 

Mycroft didn’t hesitate, he took the hand Anne held out to shake and accept it, turning it just so he could place a kiss on it. “Il est si agréable de enfin vous rencontrer, Mme Lestrade,” (It is so nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Lestrade).

Her smile was absolutely worth it, “Vous parlez exquis français, Mycroft. C'est un plaisir de vousrencontrer ainsi. (You speak exquisite French, Mycroft. It is nice to meet you as well.) “Please call me Anne.” She finished in English. Her husband had moved over by now and was hugging Greg, with less enthusiasm than his wife, though no less delight. 

“Da, this is Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft, meet my father Philip.” 

Mycroft smiled and shook the offered hand, firm and warm, like he would a politician whose time he valued. “A pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Lestrade.” 

Phil smirked, so the man had manners, that was also nice, “And you Mr. Holmes, please call me Philip,” he kept it a bit more professional, few people called him Phil but his wife and the spouses of his children, and since Mycroft wasn’t either one of those (yet), he could wait. 

“Only if you’ll call me Mycroft,” he replied. He could tell the man was sizing him up, he was after all the father of the man Mycroft loved. It seemed only fair. 

“Why don’t you boys come in, do you like tea, Mycroft?” 

“I’d love a cup,” he replied with a bit more ease as they made their way into the large and beautiful home. 

Several minutes later, Mycroft was seated next to Anne and Greg on the sofa, surrounded by the majority of the adults in the house, the children outside playing still despite the rapidly cooling evening. “How did you two meet?” Rachel asked where she sat at her husband’s feet. She’d reasoned that she often preferred sitting on the floor, Mycroft found he was a bit jealous of the days he was comfortable at doing that around people he didn’t know. 

“We actually met through his brother,” Greg replied with a sly grin. 

“Holmes, dear lord there’s two of him,” Phil commented, he’d heard his son’s stories of the way ward detective and how difficult he could be at the best of times. 

“Relax Da, Mycroft is the better of the two, promise,” Greg assured his father, “But yes, he is Sherlock’s older brother.” 

“Can you do the deduction thing too?” Rachel asked again. 

Mycroft grimaced, he tried desperately not to do it, he didn’t like to see the bad that others saw at times, “I can, yes. Though I’m a bit kinder when I do it.” 

Andrew snickered, “Come on though, you can’t really be capable of looking at someone and seeing everything they’ve ever done.” 

Mycroft glanced over at the eldest Lestrade brother, and smiled, pursing his lips he studied the man for no more than two seconds before he spoke, “You’ve been married twice, though you’re thinking of doing it a third time, you’re concerned your parents won’t approve because of her age, but you aren’t actually all that concerned because you still intend to ask her. You two have been living together for the better part of two years despite you only having just introduced her to your parents. You are an attorney with a mild smoking habit and a bit of trouble with alcoholism, though you are trying to do better. You’ve recently decided you wanted to kick the smoking habit as well, but you’re having a bit more trouble with that. You had coffee for breakfast, which you prefer with cream and a healthy dose of sugar.”  
All eyes were wide and on Andrew who just looked utterly shocked, “How…did you tell him that?” 

Greg chuckled, “Go ahead Myc.” 

“In fairness, I did know about you being married twice from your brother, but you keep reaching for your wedding band as if it’s still there, despite the fact that it’s been gone for at least a few years now based on how the tan lines have faded. The fact that you keep going back to that spot tells me you miss the feel of the metal, and the way you keep glancing at Amy with a knowing smile tells me you’ve seriously considered proposing at least once maybe more but Amy has stoically told you to ask your family first, because she wants to feel like a part of this family. I can tell that because she keeps nervously fidgeting and then stops suddenly, hopeful that no one sees it as a childish thing to do, it isn’t my dear, I’m nervous too,” Mycroft explained smiling at her, which got him a warm smile in return. “You have been living with her for at least the past two years because the shirt you’re wearing is one you are in a picture from a wedding reception two years ago that Greg has, you were alone in the picture, but it was obviously fresh and new at the time, it now has some crease lines and has faded in color, which tells me you wear it frequently, possibly because you like it, but more because the woman you love says it brings out the brown in your eyes. I knew you were an attorney because Greg has mentioned it, you I can tell the smoking habit from the light stain on your index and ring fingers, it’s one that matches mine and Gregory’s, though yours is slightly more faded than your brothers, telling me you’ve been trying to quit within the last two weeks. The alcoholism would be tough for most to spot, but I can actually tell from the slight tremor in your hand, that tells me you’ve only recently given it up because you’re still suffering from the DTs, the whites of your eyes are slightly yellowed which tells me the stress of recently being told you’re doing damage to your liver has been a wakeup call and that’s why you’re trying to quit. And finally, the coffee with cream and sugar, there’s a stain down by the edge of your shirt sleeve, you probably dripped a bit and didn’t notice, it’s too light to be black coffee or just cream, plus your brother has the same affinity for sweet coffee.” 

“Oi,” Greg whined playfully. 

“Holy shite you’re good,” Andrew whispered. 

Mycroft seemed to be inexplicably welcomed into the family from there on out, even Andrew seemed warm and pleasant around him. It was one of the best Christmases Mycroft could ever recall. It was a bit bewildering to be honest, Mycroft had expected to be hated or at least disliked, they were nothing like his family, they didn’t seem to see him as stuck up or rude. 

When they left the next evening, Anne wrapped Mycroft in a hug as tight as the one she’d given Greg the day before, “Don’t be a stranger, love, can’t wait to see you again,” she told Mycroft. 

Philip smiled as he shook Mycroft’s hand again, “We’ll see you again soon,” he offered. 

Mycroft spent the remainder of the next year in awe of it, every time there was a family function, if he could he attended and every time he was greeted warmly with open arms and a declaration of love and enthusiasm. Anne always spoke with him about what her bridge club and book club were up to, and he and Phil frequently chatted about politics. It was incredible, yet Mycroft was constantly left confused and unsure. Everyone he’d ever come in contact disliked him, everyone. He didn’t have friends really, so it was unusual to be at such ease with a group of people who seemed to genuinely enjoy their time with him. 

It was a wedding when he learned the reason why, ultimately. Nearly eighteen months later, a summer wedding where they sat in the hot sun, watching the nuptials. Afterwards at the reception, Mycroft, bewildered and exhausted by how friendly everyone was, and ultimately missing his partner who was presently being mauled by children decided to partake in the expensive whiskey they’d brought. He’d wandered over to the table where Phil and Greg’s two older brothers sat talking about football, laughing over something. 

Mycroft realizes, at some juncture, that he’s had enough whiskey to be sufficiently buzzed and that Philip and his sons seem to be in similar positions, faces pink from the alcohol and alive with delight from the day. Mycroft’s eyes swam over to Greg who was laughing and chasing the children, all the while looking utterly delighted and thrilled to be among them. 

“…see him like this,” Mycroft started, realizing Philip was speaking to him. 

“I’m sorry,” Mycroft offered looking back at Greg’s father. 

“I said it’s nice to see him like this,” before Mycroft could inquire see him how, Philip continued, “It’s been ages since I’ve seen him this happy. Cindy, she was terrible for ‘im,” Philip shook his head, “I watched that boy change what felt like in a matter of weeks. Happy, sweet and kind, unabashed and unafraid. She changed him and it wasn’t in a good way,” Mycroft knew that Cindy wasn’t a name they spoke in the Lestrade family these days. He could see that Philip’s eyes were a bit wetter as the older man reached out and patted Mycroft’s knee. 

“Nothing like how he is with you. It’s great to see ‘im smiling like this again.” 

Mycroft couldn’t even respond around the lump in his throat as Greg came back over to them, grinning wildly before Amy grabbed his hand and swept him away to sing some absurd Shania Twain song to the delight of everyone around them. 

Mycroft shad to swallow a few times as he watched that gorgeous man of his dancing and singing, jumping up and down like he was twenty, rather than forty. He felt the weight of the box he’d been carrying around for the last three months in his pocket. It felt as though it was burning it’s way through his chest right towards his heart, dear lord he loved this man. Brown eyes and a playful grin met him from across the room and Mycroft could barely breathe. He’d spent three months waiting for the perfect moment only to realize he was looking at it right now. 

“Darling, are you all right?” Anne had apparently joined them at some point. Her gentle touch and kind tone jolted him from his thoughts with a startling realization. Mycroft looked over at Greg who was waiting for another song to queue up to sing with the bride, ensuring he was busy and not paying attention he looked at the two older siblings and their parents, and he pulled out a small ring box. 

Anne started to gasp, but her eyes shot to her son and she instantly went quiet, ensuring he didn’t look over. “I do not wish to upstage the bride and groom’s day,” Mycroft explained, “But…I’ve also never been more sure of anything in my existence. I would gladly do it in a quiet corner. 

“Oh bollucks to that,” Anne whispered as she shoved the box back in his hand and grabbed his wrist, seconds later he was being towed across the floor towards the mother-of-the-bride who was all smiles. 

“Mycroft, sweethear’ wonderful to see you again,” she cheered, he believed her name was Bea, they’d only met once or twice and today was one of those times. 

“Bea, darling, you know this is Mycroft’s partner, he wants to propose.” 

The other mother beamed instantly as did the parents of the groom, “Well what are you waiting for, you daft sod!” the father of the groom cheered, “Go on.” 

“I do not wish to upstage their day,” Mycroft spoke again, though he was getting plenty nervous and excited, he wanted nothing more than to ask that beautiful man singing yet another song to marry him. 

“Pish,” Bea laughed, “Sharon will be absolutely beside herself with delight, it’ll be a story she can tell for ages, love. You let us get the song queued up, a proper slow one. We’ll make sure it’s the next one, you just get that handsome man of ours on the dance floor,” without further words, Bea hurried off with Anne to set everything up. 

Mycroft looked on the entire scene with something crossed between pure delight and a helpful dose of terror. He wasn’t truly afraid Gregory would say no, he wouldn’t ever intend to ask if such a thing were possible. It was that he was going to have a day like this, perhaps not so far from now. He was going to be the one beaming as everyone celebrated their love. It was enough to take his breath away. Gregory had, for the last ten years, been the rule that defied every one of Mycroft’s other rules. He was truly the perfect other half to Mycroft. 

Mycroft couldn’t say he was familiar with current singers and musicians, unless perhaps they were classical. But he did see Greg’s eyes light up at the first chord as the man hurried over to him and led him onto the floor. Mycroft chuckled as Greg pulled him close, their chests against one another, “Feel like I haven’t seen you for a bit, you doin’ all right?” Greg asked smiling wildly at Mycroft. 

“More than you could possibly imagine,” Mycroft replied as he ran his fingers over Greg’s shoulder and down his shoulder. “Who is this?” 

I found a love for me  
Darling just dive right in  
And follow my lead  
Well I found a girl beautiful and sweet  
I never knew you were the someone waiting for me  
'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

“Ed Sheeran, Perfect, it’s easily one of my favorite love songs right now,” Greg replied as leaned forward to kiss Mycroft’s cool lips. “You all right, you look like you’re about to have a heart attack, or something.” 

Not knowing what it was  
I will not give you up this time  
But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own  
And in your eyes you're holding mine

If the name of the song wasn’t enough of a hint, Mycroft glanced up just past Greg’s shoulder and realized his family and friends were standing by grinning like fools. His mother was desperately trying to quell her tears, while her husband held her close, pride written all over his face.  
Mycroft took a slow and steady breath, trying to soothe his rabid heart that wanted to pound out of his chest. “I’m perfect,” he whispered, before he stepped back. 

“Myc?” Greg was confused, unsure why his partner would ever draw away from him during such a beautiful song. His answer was quick though as he watched the man of his dreams, his beautiful Mycroft who knelt for no one, who held the power of the free world in his hands, kneel down on one knee and reach into his jacket pocket. “Holy shite,” he mumbled. 

Mycroft chuckled at that as he pulled out the wedding ring box and held it up, he was all too aware of the roar of applause, which was quickly silenced by the bride and groom who seemed equally thrilled this was happening. “Gregory, you are without a doubt, one of the most beautiful, wonderful, perfect humans to ever come into my life. Would you do me the honor and marry me? Make me the happiest man in the world?” 

Greg felt his own heart racing as he stared down at the gorgeous man before him, felt his eyes burning, and when his family applauded he glanced back to realize everyone was watching them in the middle of the dance floor. Sharon and Caleb’s faces were alight with joy and hope that he’d say yes. He looked back at Mycroft and laughed, before he pulled the man back up into his arms, “Fuck I love you,” Greg whispered as he pulled the man into his arms. 

“That is not an answer,” Mycroft replied, his voice filled with worry. 

Greg chuckled, “Yes it is,” he replied as he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a perfectly pristine titanium wedding band. “I’ll marry you, if you agree to do the same, make me the happiest man in the world.” 

The entire hall erupted in cheers as Mycroft laughed and the two men pulled each other impossibly close, their lips meeting. Mycroft felt Greg’s hands on his shoulders, holding him close, Myc’s arms around Greg’s waist, he’d never loved anyone the way he loved this beautiful gorgeous man. 

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms  
Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song  
When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath  
But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

They were quickly joined on the dance floor as all the family members hurried to get hugs and kisses in. Mycroft didn’t stand back and watch. He stood amidst it all, happier than he could ever recall being. 

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know  
She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home  
I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets  
To carry love, to carry children of our own

It was eight months later, they went by painfully slow and yet far too quickly for Mycroft, that he once again found himself in the very same hall, studying himself in the mirror, “Don’t fret, you look amazing,” assured Anthea from where she stood in a bridesmaid dress. 

“She is right,” offered Sherlock simply, he wore one of his best tuxes, and was sitting nearby with Rosie on his lap. 

“What if he changes his mind?” 

“Oh you sweet fool,” chuckled Anne as she stepped into the room, “My you are a dapper man. No wonder my boy loves you,” she grinned. “Your parents just arrived.” 

“Oh god,” they still were barely talking, though his father was at least trying to be kind these days, happy for his eldest to have finally found happiness. 

Anne waved away his concern as she straightened his rose on his lapel, “Don’t you worry, love. Bea and Phil are having words now, I do believe they intend to strong arm them for the entire day if it means your day is perfect.” 

We are still kids, but we're so in love  
Fighting against all odds  
I know we'll be alright this time

Mycroft smiled as he pulled his into a hug, he had never been a hugging person before meeting Greg, now he couldn’t stop, especially with his family, “I fear I do not deserve you and your wonderful family.” 

She chuckled, “You deserve it and so much more my love.” 

Darling, just hold my hand  
Be my girl, I'll be your man  
I see my future in your eyes

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms  
Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song  
When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful  
I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

They stood in the middle of the dance floor again, surrounded by Greg’s family and friends and a select group of Mycroft’s closest friends. Dancing to Perfect again, their foreheads pressed together. Mycroft opened his eyes to study the gorgeous man in front of him—his husband. “I love you,” he murmured, as if those words would ever be enough to properly explain how he felt about Gregory. 

“Marry me,” Greg whispered with a smile. 

“Darling, I just did that,” Mycroft laughed. 

Greg grinned, “Do it again, every day for the rest of our lives, this has been…everything has been perfect,” he answered as he leaned forward and kissed Mycroft. 

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms  
Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song  
I have faith in what I see  
Now I know I have met an angel in person  
And she looks perfect  
I don't deserve this  
You look perfect tonight

Mycroft wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this remarkable man and his incredible family, but he’d never been so happy to be surrounded by so many people. He had never been so glad to see another man, Phil, raise a glass to cheer him. It was wonderful to be accepted into this family so perfectly. 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is both a response and dedication to Mottlemoth. You are truly a writing inspiration, and I've spent the last like 2 weeks reading your stuff back to back. When I saw this prompt it just sorta took over. 
> 
> The Lestrade family is huge. Greg has four older brothers, and enough cousins to populate a small village. Nearly all of them have children. Family weddings are enormous affairs, and seem to go on for several days.
> 
> Mycroft dreads the bloody things. 
> 
> He’s never felt so out of place in a room - noisy children, gossiping aunties, Greg’s brothers asking if he’s a football or rugby man. 
> 
> The worst part?
> 
> He doesn’t understand why the Lestrade family are so welcoming to him. The whole lot of them are always delighted to see him, and it’s frankly bewildering. No matter how awkward and overwhelmed he feels, they just don’t seem to realise. He sits among them at every happy gathering, lost, feeling like a neurotic giraffe surrounded by happy monkeys. Not a word is ever said. He’s not had the slightest suggestion that a single Lestrade finds him stuck-up, strange, or boring. They just throw their arms around him, shout “Mycroft!”, and ask if anyone’s gotten him a drink yet.
> 
> It would somehow be easier if they disliked him.
> 
> Then, at the wedding of Greg’s… second cousin? Who is called… Sharon? And is marrying a man called… Dave? - Mycroft finally succumbs to the only possible source of relief, and starts drinking with intent. Uncle Greg is off being chased and climbed on by hoards of excited children. It could be some hours before he’s returned to the gathering at large. 
> 
> And so Mycroft takes solace in the bottle of whiskey that he and Greg brought - feeling it would be unbearable of him to drink the family’s liquor in an attempt to blot them out.
> 
> He can’t actually remember at what point he was joined at the table by Greg’s father and two of the brothers - the discussion is largely football, and Mycroft is staring dazedly at the balloons across the hall - and then he realises Greg’s father is speaking to him, and the cosy drunkenness of men sharing whiskey at a wedding is upon them. 
> 
> The old man is telling him he’s glad. 
> 
> Mycroft wonders what about.
> 
> “She was no good,” Greg’s father says - and Mycroft knows at once the ’she’ who is being discussed - the ’she’ that Greg’s family do not name. “Greg was never happy. Never saw him smiling, then. Different person.“ 
> 
> The old man pats Mycroft’s knee. 
> 
> "Happy, now there’s you. Smiling again. M'glad.”
> 
> Greg’s brothers pat him, too. Not a word is said - just a pat to each shoulder, and they fill up his glass for him, and ask if he and Greg are going away for summer.
> 
> Mycroft barely manages to answer them around the lump in his throat.
> 
> Half an hour later, Uncle Greg is brought back by the children - in largely one piece. He barely manages to hug Mycroft and get a glass of wine down his neck before he’s hauled up on stage for karaoke with his eldest niece. 
> 
> As Mycroft watches the two of them sing Shania Twain’s ‘Don’t Be Stupid’ to the entire family’s rapturous approval, he realises with a thrill that he’s watching the man he’ll marry - watching him sing and dance and laugh, grinning from ear-to-ear - and he’s grinning straight across the room at Mycroft.
> 
> It takes some planning - some discreet checking - some reassurance from a helpful mother-of-the-groom that such a gesture would not be seen as usurping a special day.
> 
> (And on the day itself, it takes several substantial glasses of whiskey to go ahead with it.)
> 
> But the roar that goes up as he sinks to one knee at the wedding of Greg’s nephew is nearly enough to raise the roof - and he never forgets Greg’s arms around his neck, and the laughter in his ear, and the pile of happy arms that the two of them then vanish beneath.


End file.
